Once We Were

Peter shook his head and laughed. The sound was so foreign, so shocking, so strange. I couldn’t imagine laughing. Now, or ever again. Dr. Lyanne’s eyes met ours. But she didn’t say anything, and neither did I.

Later, when we were all seated again, she explained how she’d gotten away in the chaos. How she’d sedated Jenson once they were almost out of the building, so he couldn’t alert security as to who she was. In the confusion, they’d believed her when she said she was one of the officials who’d come to investigate Powatt. They’d taken her to a hospital, where she checked in under a false name. Eventually, she was able to sneak away. Hide. Then come back to us.

It seemed like Dr. Lyanne always came back to us, in the end.

She told us Jenson would live. Would make a full recovery, most likely. But she didn’t know what he would tell the police when he woke. She didn’t know who, if any, real hybrids had been rounded up in the raid following the bombing. Through his phone calls, Peter had ascertained that many of the ones living in the area were safe at home, still anonymous and hidden. But there were a number who hadn’t answered the phone. Who remained unaccounted for.

Sabine, Cordelia, and Christoph were among them.

Addie and I had run out of pain medication, and after eating, Dr. Lyanne ushered us into her bedroom so she could properly check us over. I sat as she examined our ankle again, then some of our deeper cuts. There was a dark bloom of bruises across our ribs, to say nothing of our legs.

“All in all, you’re extremely lucky,” she said. “I wish I could get that ankle x-rayed, but—”

“It feels better,” I lied dully. We were both seated on her bed, a bottle of disinfectant and a box of bandages between us.

“Eva,” Dr. Lyanne said. “Look at me.” When I didn’t, she put her fingers under our chin, tilted it upward. Her voice was low, raspy. “Months ago, I watched them cut into a healthy little boy. I watched them kill one soul and permanently injure the other. I see Jaime every day and I know—I know that I had a hand in it.”

“You didn’t do it,” I said quietly. “Maybe you couldn’t have stopped them.”

Her mouth twisted. “That’s not what you said back at Nornand. Sometimes we make mistakes, Eva. Sometimes we make mistakes and they’re so terrible the word mistake doesn’t seem big enough to encompass it. But it happens. And the only way to ever make up for it is by cleaning up the mess.”

Addie and I were silent. Dr. Lyanne’s eyes never left ours.

“I think we’ve ruined everything,” I whispered.

“You haven’t,” she said. “I won’t lie—you’ve caused an impressive amount of trouble for someone who’s barely old enough to drive. But you haven’t ruined everything. You think Peter and the others didn’t have plans for something like this? Well, not this, exactly,” she said, taking in the look on our face, “but similar situations. You know how Peter likes to be prepared.”

Somehow, I managed a wan smile. It didn’t feel right to smile. But I suppose it didn’t hurt anyone, either.

“Thank you,” I said.

She shrugged and stood, gathering the disinfectant and the bandages. “For what?” But she lingered at the bedroom door. “I’m serious, Eva, Addie—both of you—forget all this I ruined everything. Focus on cleaning up your mess.”

We nodded.

“Promise me,” she said.

“Promise,” we said.

And we meant it.

Dr. Lyanne came back with a wheelchair. Jaime didn’t need one, but it was easier, sometimes—especially on his bad days—to have one on reserve.

“I’ll see if I can get some crutches later,” she said as she helped Addie and me into the seat. “But in the meantime, keep weight off that ankle.” She shook her head. “You have no sense of self-preservation, you know that?”

<You know> Addie said quietly. <I thought that made us brave.>

Was it bravery? Or stupidity? Or both?

“I just wanted things to change,” I said, running our fingers along the wheelchair’s padded armrests.

Dr. Lyanne gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Funny. I decided to be a doctor—to specialize in hybridity, to work at Nornand, because I wanted the same thing.”

Peter, Sophie, and Henri were gathered in the living room. Dr. Lyanne went to join them. Addie and I wheeled our way to the dining table. There, Jaime and Kitty sat alone, paging through a comic book. I could hear Devon and Hally murmuring in the kitchen, but their voices were just barely audible over the sound of running water and the clink of dishes.

“Hey, Jaime,” I said. He looked up, taking in the wheelchair. He grinned. “I know, I know. I’m just borrowing it for a little while.”

He made a face. “You . . . you c-can . . . keep it.”

“Do I get to push you around?” Kitty asked.

I rolled our eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. “We’ll see. Do me a favor first. Run and get me a pencil and a sheet of paper?”

“Why?” Kitty asked. “Is Addie going to draw something?”

<Addie?>

<Yeah> she said softly. <I’d like that.>

Kitty scrambled from her chair. In a few moments, she came back bearing a legal notepad and a pencil. She handed them to us, then leaned over our shoulder.

“Me?” Jaime said as we turned to face him.

Addie was the one who nodded. She touched the pencil point against the paper. Made the first light mark to capture Jaime’s face; his short, curly hair; his smile.

We were so absorbed, we didn’t notice Hally and Devon watching us until Hally asked, several minutes later, “Another Addie masterpiece in the making?”

Addie looked up. “I just realized I’ve never drawn him before. I—oh, Devon, don’t—Jaime, if you move, then I can’t—”

Devon had sat down next to Jaime, nodding questioningly at the younger boy’s comic book. Jaime, ever eager, turned to show him the cover.

Addie rolled our eyes. Jaime muffled a laugh. Devon—Devon, for the briefest second—wore a small, smug smile. Then it was gone. He looked over at Peter and the others congregated on the sofas. They were too far away, and spoke too quietly, to hear.

“Planning again,” he said. “We’re going to need our own plans.”

Addie glanced down at her incomplete sketch. “Or we could work with them.”

“You think they’d listen to us?” Hally asked.

“We have to try.”

Because in the end, we all wanted the same thing. To be safe. To be free. To stop the pain, and the suffering, and the fear.

To keep hope, not just for our own sakes, but for those who relied on us to help them when they could not help themselves.

“Come on.” Addie set the legal pad on the table. “I’ll finish it later. There’s a meeting going on.”

We all moved to the living room, even Kitty. Peter was the one speaking. He paused when he saw us approaching. His eyes met ours. I didn’t look away.

Finally, he nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Here’s what needs to be done.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS